


Short Circuit

by dasseinhundin



Series: One Large Coffee, Cream No Sugar [2]
Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Grad student Fakir, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Senior Ahiru, Teacher-Student Relationship, absolute nonsense, drink responsibly kiddos, drunk Ahiru, frazzled Fakir, generally unhelpful Mytho, mentions of butts, minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasseinhundin/pseuds/dasseinhundin
Summary: It takes Fakir a solid three minutes of white-knuckling the counter before he calms down enough to inhale properly. How the hell is he supposed to deal with this? It was bad enough when she was simply giggling on his couch in that stupidly adorable manner of hers, but she just called him handsome. He now possesses the knowledge that Ahiru finds him at least somewhat physically appealing. This is not information that he should have.Fakir frantically dials Mytho's phone again, and nearly rips his hair out when it goes to voicemail again. How hard is it to pick up a phone? Probably about as hard as putting on a pair of pants, he thinks vexingly.He's doomed.[In which Ahiru somehow gets into a bar (How?), Fakir is having a Crisis, and Mytho continues to be Unhelpful.]





	Short Circuit

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time after '99 Bottles'.

Fakir revokes his previous statement: He is not screwed.

He's totally fucked.

"Dammit Ahiru, stop squirming around!" Fakir hisses, digging in his pocket for his key while the petite redhead gleefully kicks her legs back and forth. She's draped over his back like a rag doll, and Fakir can feel the warm puffs of her breath against his neck as she giggles in his ear.

Oh, he is so screwed.

"Hey  _P'fessor_ ," Ahiru slurs, and he feels her take a deep breath. In fact he is entirely too aware of the press of her figure against his back, and he has to take a breath of his own to deal with it. "P'fessor Lohen. Y'hair smells so  _good_. Like...I dunno,  _apples_  or somethin'."

He's going to die.

Focus.  _Focus._  Fakir manages to not pass out from mortification long enough to finally fish his key out of his pocket. He's actually somewhat impressed with himself for being able to balance Ahiru long enough to open the door, but then again she weighs about the same as a friggin' peanut so yeah, that actually explains a lot now that he thinks about it.

From the gibberish she's been drunkenly spouting since they'd left the bar Fakir has discerned that she'd been with friends but had somehow gotten separated at some point during the night, which is apparently when some sleazy creep had introduced her to the wonders of a Long Island Iced Tea.

By some twisted sense of fate, ( _and by fate he means the colossal cosmic joke his life has now become,)_  Fakir had so happened to be grabbing a drink at the bar after staying late in the office. He isn't usually one to drink, but after grading forty-two midterm papers Fakir had needed bourbon as desperately as he needed air.

He was in the middle of an Old Fashioned when he'd spotted her across the bar: red hair tied up in a bun, perched on a stool and flanked by a greasy looking older man. By the flush on her face she'd clearly been drunk, and by the lascivious grin on the man's face he too had been aware of her inebriation.

He saw the man lean in and whisper something that made her look visibly uncomfortable, and she said something back that he couldn't make out over the din of the bar. Fakir recalls the way his blood had burned in his veins as he watched his hand wander from her shoulder and down the curve of her waist regardless of her discomfort, lower and lower until Fakir nearly leapt from his stool to stop him.

"I would suggest you keep your hands respectively to yourself," Fakir hissed, fingers tightening around the man's wrist.

"The fuck are you?" The man snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Prof-Professor?" Ahiru squeaked, spinning around in her stool to look at the two. "What're you doin' here?"

The man turned to him with a scowl. "I suggest you mind your own business,  _professor_." He side-eyed Ahiru in a way that made Fakir's skin crawl. It only served to fuel his anger further.

"She  _is_  my business," He snarled. "Now back off."

"And if I don't?" The man had challenged.

Fakir didn't even bother to respond before punching the man in the face.

Fakir's knuckles sting from where he'd caught the man's teeth as he wraps his hand around the doorknob. Serves the bastard right, he thinks acidly. At least Ahiru is safe now.

"How did you even get into that bar?" Fakir asks her as he trudges to the into the living room. "You're only twenty. You can't even drink yet."

" _Seeecret,"_ She says. Her breath tickles his earlobe. Fakir can't handle this.

The redhead still remains latched to his back as he stumbles across the room, snorting and giggling like she's having the time of her friggin' life. He tries to be careful when he deposits her onto the couch but she's been possessed by some sort of demon koala and nearly drags him down with her. Luckily he catches himself on the back of the couch and  _oh holy_ _ **shit**_ _she is_   _close, way too close,_ _ **waytooclose**_ -and nearly falls over the coffee table in his mad scramble to get away from her.

Ahiru flops over onto the arm rest, snorting. Dammit, he should  **not**  find that cute.

" _Careful_  P'fessor," She sing-songs. "Fallin' isn't fun. I know. I do it a  _lot._ "

Fakir scowls, face burning as he digs for his cellphone. "I'm fine."  _Lies._  "Just give me your phone so I can call your roommates to come pick you up."

Ahiru gasps, blue eyes widening at the mention of her roommates. "Oh  _nooo!_  Pike an' Lilie are gonna be so- _hic-_ mad!"

Not as mad as  _he_  already is, Fakir thinks. What the hell were they thinking, to leave her alone like that? If he hadn't been there to stop that bastard...the thought makes him feel ill. He shakes it off by reminding himself that Ahiru is safe and sound, save for the hangover that she is sure to have in a few hours.

Ahiru reaches down into her shorts pocket, slumping further down into the couch as she does so, and gasps again before saying a very sheepish, "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Fakir deadpans. "What's  _'uh oh'?_ "

"Don' have m'phone," She slurs.

Well, there goes that plan.

Fakir sighs, and reaches for his own phone. "Fine. I guess I'll call Rue and Mytho so at least  _someone_  knows where the hell you are and can come get you."

" _Ooooh_ , Rue's gonna be even  _more_ mad! _"_ Ahiru squeaks. "She says'm not s'posed to talk t'you."

Fakir pauses in flipping through his contacts and narrows his eyes at her. " _Why_?"

_"Eep!"_ Ahiru slaps her hands over her mouth, cheeks bright.

He quirks a brow. "What now?" He sighs.

"M'not s'posed to be talking t'you!"

Fakir just stares at her because  _there is no way this is his actually his life right now,_  before turning his attention back to his phone. He finds Mytho's number and dials it.

_"Hi, this is Mytho. I'm sorry I can't answer my phone right now-"_

_"_ Dammit," Fakir groans as the voicemail rattles on. He's absolutely useless. "Mytho, it's me. I've got Ahiru here at my apartment. There was an... _incident_...at the bar, and long story short she's currently sprawled across my couch in a drunken stupor. She can't find her phone, so tell Rue to call her roommates or something to come get her. Call me back."

He hangs up and turns back to Ahiru, who is now half-conscious and stretched across the entire length of the couch.

"This is the  _best couch_ _ **ever.**_ **"** She practically moans, snuggling her face deeper into the cushions. "It's so comfy!" The sound raises the hairs on Fakir's neck, and he strategically absconds to the kitchen because he cannot handle her making those  _noises._

He dials Mytho's number again with a little more force than necessary, rapping his fingers on the counter as he waits for him to pick up.

" _Hi, this is Mytho. I'm sorry I can't answer my phone-"_

"You are  _the_  most unhelpful human being to ever walk this accursed planet," He growls. "Learn to pick up your phone and call me back."

Fakir hangs up and runs a hand through his hair. This is not his life. This cannot  _possibly_  be his life right now. Is this karma for extending the page minimum for that paper on Moby Dick?

"P'fessor," Ahiru calls, and he can hear the nausea in her voice. "I don'- _hic_ -feel too good."

Shit.

He looks around frantically for something to bring her so he doesn't end up with puke all over his carpet, and grabs a large sauce pan from near the sink. When he comes back into the living room Ahiru looks as pale as a sheet. Fakir barely has time to hand her the pot before she retches.

He's unsure what to do; he has an overwhelming urge to rub her back but touching is the absolute  **last**  thing that should be happening. Then again,  _Ahiru being in his apartment_  shouldn't be happening, and yet here he is, standing awkwardly next to his student who he may or may not find attractive ( _may,_ _ **totally**_ _may, who the hell is he even kidding anymore,)_  as she pukes into his sauce pan. So he just awkwardly pats her shoulder while glancing desperately at his phone.

After a few minutes her heaving comes to a stop and her shoulders calm to only minor spasms, and she glances up at him miserably. "M' _sorry,_ " Ahiru whimpers.

Fakir panics when he sees tears beading in her eyes. "Why the hell are you crying?"

"Because I puked in your  _pot,"_  She wails.

"I'm just glad you didn't puke on my carpet." Fakir says.

"B-But  _still!_ " She cries. "You're  _you_  and you're all cool and grumpy and handsome 'n stuff, and 'm just the stupid girl who puked in your pot. That's so  _gross_!"

Fakir momentarily forgets to breathe because  _she just called him handsome._ _ **Ahiru called him handsome**_ **.** This is not real life.

"Stop crying!" Fakir snaps, because she's entirely too distracting. He's still so dizzy with shock that it only frazzles him more when he sees Ahiru's bottom lip start to tremble. But his brain is short circuiting and he can't figure out what to do to make her stop, so he just flees once again to the kitchen before he contemplates his ineptitude ( _or her lip_ ) any further.

It takes Fakir a solid three minutes of white-knuckling the counter before he calms down enough to inhale properly. How the hell is he supposed to deal with this? It was bad enough when she was simply giggling on his couch in that stupidly adorable manner of hers, but she just called him handsome. He now possesses the knowledge that Ahiru finds him at least somewhat physically appealing. Shit. This is not information that he should have.

Fakir frantically dials Mytho's phone again, and nearly rips his hair out when it goes to voicemail again. How hard is it to pick up a phone? Probably about as hard as putting on a pair of pants, he thinks vexingly.

He's doomed.

"You utterly useless  _moron_." Fakir hisses. "I hate you and your complete inability to  _pick up your damn phone_. I am not screwing around with you, Mytho. If you don't call me back soon, so help me I will not hesitate to smash that precious camera of yours into a thousand different pieces."

He slams his phone down on the counter and cradles his head in his hands. What is he going to do? He can't very well just  _leave_  her in the living room to cry all night. Well he can, but the thought of Ahiru crying makes his gut knot itself uncomfortably. Which, come to think of it, also explains how he caved to her requests for tutoring. He's a wimp.

In hopes of making up for his complete lack of comforting skills, Fakir settles to scavenge in his cupboards for a sleeve of crackers and a glass for some water. He carries them in and sets them on the table in front of her wordlessly, ears burning.

Ahiru stares at the peace offerings and blinks, eyes dazed.

"Drink this and eat some of the crackers. They're probably stale, but they should help you feel better."

Ahiru turns her confused gaze up towards his face before hesitantly reaching for a cracker and taking a bite. She chews thoughtfully, and then ventures a meek, "You're not mad at me?"

Fakir sighs, and as pissed off as he is at the universe, he only feels a tug of affection stir in his chest for her. She's got crumbs on the corner of her mouth, and he fights the small smile threatening to show on his face. "No, I'm not mad. So stop being upset, moron."

"M'not a moron, ya jerk."

Fakir gives in and smirks a bit; leave it to Ahiru to still bicker with him even when hammered. He watches her roll over to her side for easier cracker access, then glances at the clock: 1 in the morning. He sighs again.

"I guess it's safe to say you'll be sleeping here tonight." He says, and tires very hard not to think of all of the other various scenarios that this statement implies. "I'll go grab you some bedding." He'd offer to take the couch, but there's something about the idea of Ahiru sleeping in his bed that feels terribly intimate and Fakir doesn't think that his already-shot nerves can deal with that. Besides, she seems content enough on the couch.

"M'kay," She says quietly, nibbling on another cracker. She takes a sip of water, and it seems to perk her up a bit. "Y'know, I don' get why people don' like you. Y'may be a grump, but you're actually super nice." She slurs, waving her cracker at him. "Plus y'got a  _really_  nice butt."

Fakir nearly chokes on his own spit, which must raise some concern in her alcohol-hazed mind, because Ahiru lifts her head to inquire if he's okay. The answer is  _absolutely_ _ **not**_ _,_ _ **you just complimented my butt how the hell am I supposed to respond to that**_ _,_ but he just coughs out a strangled, "M' _fine_ ," and nearly trips over his feet running to the sanctuary of the bathroom.

He slams the door shut and flips the lock and stumbles over to the sink, face scalding. Fakir turns on the cold water and splashes his face.  _This is not really happening to me,_ Fakir thinks,  _nope, I fell asleep grading papers. I'm still in the office and when I wake up I will be alone and when I go home there will not be a drunken student on my couch._

Fakir is so on-edge that he nearly yelps when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees Mytho's name and nearly cries with relief.

"Where the hell have you been?" Fakir snaps.

" _You know it's not very nice to threaten to break someone's things, Fakir."_

_"_ Then learn to pick up your phone." He says, rubbing his eyes. "Do you have any idea the situation that I've been dealing with, here?"

" _Judging from your messages, I'd venture to say a rather serious one."_

"Well right now I have a student who I have been desperately trying to avoid for the sake of my career lying across my couch  _drunkenly complimenting my butt_ , so  _yes_ , Mytho, I'd say it's rather serious."

Fakir finishes his rant, and takes a deep breath, because he feels dangerously close to triggering an aneurysm.

"... _You sound stressed, Fakir."_

" _ **I am stressed!**_ " Fakir shouts. "Do you know what an absolute nightmare this has been? I had to carry her back here after getting rid of some creep at the bar who was trying to take advantage of her because she can't remember her address right now, then she tells me that my hair smelled good, then I have to deal with her almost vomiting all over my couch, and  _then_  she tells me that I have a ' _really nice butt_ '."

He hears Mytho snort on the other end, and he nearly explodes. " _This is not funny, you moron!_ "

Mytho sounds like he's ready to start laughing, and Fakir is ready to kill him. " _Actually, it kind of is."_

Fakir slaps his forehead, groaning. "Just tell Rue to call her roommates to come pick her up."

" _Rue is already asleep and I'd rather not wake her up. She is rather scary when you wake her up._ "

"Then  _you_  call them!" He says. "Somebody just needs to come and get her the hell out of my apartment before I have a stroke."

Mytho yawns. " _Don't worry, Fakir. Pike and Lilie already know that she's safe. I texted them as soon as I got your first message."_

"And you didn't tell me this why?"

" _I figured I shouldn't interrupt you."_

Fakir rubs his eyes again and sighs heavily. "Whatever. At least they're coming to get her, then."

" _No they're not,"_ Mytho says. " _Pike said they're both spending the night at Lilie's boyfriend's house. Something about carpooling home for the long weekend."_

Fakir wants to scream. "You've got to be kidding me. Then  _you_  come get her!"

" _Why?_ "

"Because I cannot have a student sleeping in my home, much less  _Ahiru._  This is beyond inappropriate. If anybody were to ever find out-"

" _Relax, Fakir. I told Pike and Lilie that she's over here, and you live far enough from campus that I don't think you have to worry about seeing anybody."_

_"_ You are  _completely_  missing my point."

" _I disagree. I'll be by in the morning. Goodnight, Fakir. Remember, deep breaths."_

Fakir's eyes widen. "No. Don't you  **dare**  hang up on me.  _So help me_ , Mytho. If you hang up on me, your photo equipment is  _mine_. You hear me? Mytho?  _Mytho!_ "

The phone goes dead, and he swears.

What did he ever do to deserve this? He's a good person. Well, he tries to be, at least. Doesn't that count for something? Apparently not, or he'd already be in bed and not tending to an inebriated student who he is uncomfortably attracted to.

As if on cue he hears Ahiru retch again from down the hall, and he recalls his previous goal before the whole butt debacle. Fakir digs around in his linen closet for some extra bedding and is confused when he can't find any of the spare blankets, but then he remembers it's because Mytho ( _that_ _ **traitor**_ _)_  had borrowed them when he and Rue had lost their heat back in January, so he trudges to his room to grab his own comforter for her.

He returns to the living room with his bedding a few moments later. "Here, you can use these for tonight." Fakir says with burning ears, handing her the bundle. She's already managed to kick off her shoes and finish her water as well as polish off half the sleeve of crackers, but her face still has a sickly pallor that makes his stomach knot in concern."Hey, you okay?"

Ahiru doesn't speak but merely shakes her head. "M'belly's all weird," She mumbles.

"Idiot," He sighs. "How much did you drink?"

"Dunno." She says, fighting off a yawn. "Can't 'member. M'head..."

"Hold on, I'll get you some more water."

Fakir returns from the kitchen to find Ahiru already cocooned in the blanket, snoring quietly into his pillow. He sighs to himself as he sets the glass down beside her on the table. For a brief second he contemplates simply going to bed, but he feels a nagging worry for the girl on his couch. Just how much did she have to drink? She'd probably be fine, but Fakir doesn't want to chance it.

He settles himself down on the floor by her feet and turns on the television, because it's swiftly becoming apparent that he will not be sleeping tonight. Fakir makes sure that the volume is low enough to not disturb her, and flips through until the can find something half-decent to watch. He passes several embarrassingly bad infomercials for a variety of ridiculous products ( _a blanket with sleeves? Why not just wear a robe?)_  until finally he settles upon a channel airing reruns of old movies.

Fakir recognizes the film as  _Casablanca:_  he recognizes it by Humphrey Bogart's quote to his departing love as he makes her board the plane.

_"-you'll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life."_ Humphrey Bogart says. Fakir realizes that he's taking the quote entirely out of context, but the words make him think to Mytho's question in the kitchen:

" _Would it be worth it?"_

His stomach does this weird summersault that he's come to associate with thoughts of his student, and he leans his head back against the couch. He's hopeless.

Fakir glances at Ahiru from the corner of his eye. She's sound asleep, her snores mingling with the quiet background noise of the ending credits. He's relieved to see that there's a little more color in her face now, and that she seems to look much more at ease than before.

He notices some other things too, things that stir his heart to a gallop such as how long her eyelashes are, or how there are even more freckles adorning her nose than he had previously realized. How is it that one person could have so may freckles? They're all over: sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. There's even one on the edge of her upper lip, which he has just noticed is curved into a perfect cupid's bow.

He continues to stare at her despite feeling like an total  _creep_ , but there's just something so endearingly soft about the way the glow of the television plays off the curve of her cheek that he can't bring himself to look away, and it's within this moment that Fakir realizes that Ahiru is beautiful.

He's screwed.

* * *

Ahiru awakens in the morning with a splitting headache to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. A fresh wave of nausea hits her, but she swallows down the bile in favor of stretching out her stiff muscles. The night before is a complete and total blur, save for some vague snippets of the bar and the smell of smoke and apples. She throws her arms above her head and yawns, and it takes her a full three minutes before she realizes that she has  _absolutely no idea where she is._

So she screams.

There's a sound of glass shattering and frantic footsteps, and suddenly  _Professor Lohen_  is standing in the doorway, confused and panicked.

"What?! What's going on?!" He demands.

Ahiru stares at him, trying to process the fact that  _oh dear god, her professor is standing in the doorway-and that must mean that_ _ **oh dear god, this is his**_ **house-** and screams again.

"Stop screaming!" He shouts, covering his ears.

"Wha-why am I-what are you- _what the heck is going on?!"_  Ahiru shouts, head spinning. Her face feels like a wildfire because if this is his house then this must make these his blankets and  _oh, that's why they smelled so good._ She's going to die.

Professor Lohen rubs his eyes, and Ahiru notices just how worn out he looks; as if he'd been up all night. "Calm down, moron. You're at my apartment. I carried you back here last night after I ran into you at the bar."

"You...you  _carried me_?" She squeaks, and suddenly there isn't enough oxygen in the atmosphere.

"Yeah." He says. "You were drunk and couldn't tell me where you lived, so I had to take you back here. Mytho should be by soon to pick you up."

He disappears into the kitchen, probably to go clean up whatever he dropped when she shrieked, and she is left alone on the couch to die of mortification. Ahiru cradles her head in her hands, cheeks scarlet. This can't be happening.

Professor Lohen pokes his head into the living room again, expression just as stoic and unimpressed as ever. "Are you coming or what?"

"Ah!" She says sheepishly, standing to shuffle her way over to the kitchen. Her limbs feel like lead and she's momentarily dizzy, but she makes it to the kitchen with no further incidents. Once inside, Professor Lohen points at the table for her to sit, and she waits patiently for the lecture she's sure to get.

Instead, shockingly, she's handed a glass of water and two pills.

"Ibuprofin," He says. "For your head."

She accepts the painkillers with a meek " _Thanks,_ " before swallowing both as he places a bowl of cereal in front of her. He sits down adjacent to her and nurses a cup of coffee.

Ahiru tries to focus on chewing her cheerios, but she can feel his eyes on her and her face feels so hot that she is genuinely concerned about spontaneously combusting at his kitchen table. If he notices her hand trembling as she spoons her cereal into her mouth he says nothing, and merely turns his attention to the newspaper until the doorbell rings.

_Thank goodness,_  Ahiru thinks.

She's so relieved to see Mytho standing at the door that she could cry. He greets her with his usual airy smile, and she watches as he and Professor Lohen exchange a tense look. Rather, she watches as Professor Lohen stares literal daggers into her friend's face while he continues to grin as if nothing is amiss.

"You look tired, Fakir." He comments. "Long night?"

"Your camera is mine," Is all Professor Lohen says to him, before turning his attention back to her. "Ahiru."

She jumps, stomach doing such a violent flip that her cheerios threaten to make a reappearance. "Y-Y-Yes?" She stammers.

"Be ready for class on Wednesday. I expect you to be on time."

With that he slams the door, and she's left alone with Mytho on his doormat.

"Don't worry about him," Mytho assures her. "Fakir has never been much of a morning person. Shall we be off?"

Ahiru's tongue feels strangely heavy in her mouth, so she just nods and follows him to the car. Once buckled in, Mytho fiddles with the radio until it's set to the classical music station before starting the car and driving off.

Mytho seems to be distracted by his own thoughts as well, so Ahiru turns to stare out the window. She fixes her eyes on Professor Lohen's front door, and as it drifts out of sight she realizes with a blush that her clothing now smells of apples.


End file.
